Yes, it’s true. I let her out. Gave her permission to come out and play. And let me tell you, she had herself some fun. With joy, she dutifully delivered the outgoing mail to a clerk; she checked our mailbox; we read our mail in the parking lot ‘cause she just couldn’t wait for that half-way-long drive home. All done, the little voice said “Go!”
Just like Tara in “True Blood,” we both answered, “You don’t have to tell me twice!” And we were off.
We knew where we were meant to go the second we stood before the threshold: Through the door, veer right, two steps down the aisle, to the left, down on the second shelf up from the floor, and there they were: Two cans . . .
We chose the blue with a promise to buy the other one next time. We bought five sheets of art-stitched mulberries paper--knowing we were lucky to get them on sale. Home we went, as happy as the skies were blue.
The can reminds me of the can the body powder my grandmother and aunts used back when I was a girl. I think it was Camay dusting powder. It waited prettily in a prettyin-pink can. Postcards in a can is a pretty-pink idea, don't you think?
Lovely. Interesting. Different. A call to the Inner Bohemian.
1 a native or inhabitant of Bohemia.
2 (also bohemian) a person who has informal and unconventionalsocial habits, esp. an artist or writer : the young bohemians with their artgalleries and sushi bars. [ORIGIN: mid 19th cent.: from Frenchbohémien ‘gypsy’ (because gypsies were thought to come from Bohemia, or because they perhaps entered the West through Bohemia).]
Such artistry! An air of mystery. That speaks of a history.
and a life lived with flair.
Such daring as this
should be--will be--shared.
Five cards are ready for tomorrow's mail. I randomly chose the recipients. The "Margaret Shepherd winner" will receive a set of three cards to keep, or send. Let your Inner Bohemian come out to play!